This is the original weblog for Shayne McClendon, erotica author and good girl. I am not afraid to talk about sex. I am not intimidated by my own sexuality or anyone else's. Push beyond your comfort zone. Find out what makes you tick - what makes your partner tick - and don't shy away from it. Be intimate, be dirty, be real...but ALWAYS practice safe sex and self-respect.

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3.15.2012

VERY Short Romance Story: Not the Type

Not
the Type

They’d been neighbors for four years and
she’d been masturbating to fantasies of him since week two. He was ten feet away at the homeowner’s
association Christmas party. She drank
him in, six-four with dark blond hair and dark brown eyes. Long and hard, just like she figured his cock
probably was. She was desperate. It had been so long since she’d been with
anyone. She had to have him.

So, pretending to be drunker than she
really was and hating herself for the lack of confidence that required it, she
slid up behind him and stroked her hands over his shoulders. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes
widening in surprise when he realized it was her.

For one moment, she considered forgetting
the entire thing. She was a 35-year-old
divorced mom who taught science to elementary school kids. Beautiful and charming Zach couldn’t possibly look for cute in a woman. She was athletic but not curvy or particularly pretty.

Fuck
that, she thought
angrily.
I get two nights a month to myself and I need this. I need him.

“Stacey?” his smile was hesitant but
genuine. “You okay?”

Inhaling deeply, she murmured, “I. Am.
Fantastic.” Her hand idly stroked up and
down his forearm, as if she didn’t realize she was doing it. “How are you, Zach?”

The silence was deafening. She could feel his eyes reading her and
wondered what he saw. He took a careful
step toward her. If she took a deep
breath, her breasts in the snug red cocktail dress would touch his crisp white
shirt. Still, he said nothing and she
forced herself to observe the same silence.
Waiting for him to answer the question he obviously heard. She couldn’t let go of her dignity enough to
beg but, oh God, how she wanted to.

Suddenly, his palm flipped up and grabbed
her hand. He was pulling her through the
room to the exit, grabbing her coat near the door. Through the courtyard, across one of the many
parks that dotted the property, through the gate of his backyard, glass doors
sliding, the sound of a lock, and then she was slammed against the wall, his
body dipping, lifting her off the floor.
Lips descending on hers, the warm invasion of his tongue. Her arms and legs wrapping around him as his
hot palm smoothed up the soft back of her thigh, her fingers gripping his hair. Grabbing at her lace panties and ripping them away,
fingertips testing her, caressing her.

A gentle rocking as he moved his hand to
his wallet, the crinkle of paper, the sound of a zipper, and an instant later
he was thrusting inside her, one hand beneath her ass, the other stroking from
the sides of her still-covered breasts to the damp heat of her clit. Buried deep now, her pussy impossibly stretched,
his eyes rose to meet hers. “Finally. Jesus, finally.”

Then there were no words as he drove her
up and over her climax once, then again, joining her as the third rocketed
through every cell in her body. He
stroked her face, still pinning her to the wall with the press of his
body. She couldn’t look away, no matter
how self-conscious she suddenly felt. She blurted, “I wasn’t really drunk.”

Her instant reward was a smile
complete with dimples. “I know.”

“Then why?” asked so softly she didn’t
know if he would hear her.

A crinkle formed between his brows. He had heard.
“What do you mean why?”

“I…I know I’m not your type. Not the type to do things like this.”

The silence played out for a long time
and she felt tears prick the back of her eyes.
“You think you’re a pity fuck or something. Don’t you?”
He leaned forward and kissed her so gently, so sweetly that she couldn’t
hold back the tear. “Why do women always
underestimate themselves? Why can’t you
see what I see in you?” His hand
stroked through her hair. “You’re
beautiful, you’re the smartest person I know, you make me laugh. I like the way you are with CJ, you’re a
great mom to him and don’t think he doesn’t know it.” He cupped her face. “I enjoy you, Stacey. Looking at you, talking to you, wanting
you. I waited. I saw the battle scars from your divorce but –
fuck – how I wanted to push.” His arms
wrapped fully around her now, holding her tightly to him. “You are the only woman I’ve ever taken the time
to get to know outside my family. Look
at me. Know me, too, Stacey.”

She held his eyes and he didn’t avoid
her. She touched his face and he leaned
into her palm. She tightened her muscles
around his cock and his hips jerked against her. All she could do was smile. “I see you, Zach.”

He smile was blinding as he carried her
to his bedroom and they bared their bodies to one another for the first
time. The second time was slow and
steady as they looked their fill.

2 comments:

Why thank you very much! I'm working with blog-length stories to challenge myself...I tend to be long-winded. It is exciting to try to fit heat in less than 800 words. I hope you keep following...I'm trying to post a free story each day. Much love!

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